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    The Skin Game: "A man is the sum of his actions, of what he has done, of what he can do, nothing else."
    The Skin Game: "A man is the sum of his actions, of what he has done, of what he can do, nothing else."
    The Skin Game: "A man is the sum of his actions, of what he has done, of what he can do, nothing else."
    Ebook104 pages1 hour

    The Skin Game: "A man is the sum of his actions, of what he has done, of what he can do, nothing else."

    By John Galsworthy

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    About this ebook

    John Galsworthy first published in 1897 with a collection of short stories entitled “The Four Winds”. For the next 7 years he published these and all works under his pen name John Sinjohn. It was only upon the death of his father and the publication of “The Island Pharisees” in 1904 that he published as John Galsworthy. His first play was The Silver Box, an immediate success when it debuted in 1906 and was followed by “The Man of Property" later that same year and was the first in the Forsyte trilogy. Whilst today he is far more well know as a Nobel Prize winning novelist then he was considered a playwright dealing with social issues and the class system. We publish here ‘The Skin Game’ a great example of both his writing and his demonstration of how the class system worked at the time. He was appointed to the Order of Merit in 1929, after earlier turning down a knighthood, and awarded the Nobel Prize in 1932 though he was too ill to attend. John Galsworthy died from a brain tumour at his London home, Grove Lodge, Hampstead on January 31st 1933. In accordance with his will he was cremated at Woking with his ashes then being scattered over the South Downs from an aeroplane.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherCopyright Group
    Release dateNov 19, 2013
    ISBN9781783946235
    The Skin Game: "A man is the sum of his actions, of what he has done, of what he can do, nothing else."
    Author

    John Galsworthy

    John Galsworthy was a Nobel-Prize (1932) winning English dramatist, novelist, and poet born to an upper-middle class family in Surrey, England. He attended Harrow and trained as a barrister at New College, Oxford. Although called to the bar in 1890, rather than practise law, Galsworthy travelled extensively and began to write. It was as a playwright Galsworthy had his first success. His plays—like his most famous work, the series of novels comprising The Forsyte Saga—dealt primarily with class and the social issues of the day, and he was especially harsh on the class from which he himself came.

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      Book preview

      The Skin Game - John Galsworthy

      The Skin Game by John Galsworthy

      (A Tragi-Comedy)

      Who touches pitch shall be defiled

      John Galsworthy first published in 1897 with a collection of short stories entitled The Four Winds.  For the next 7 years he published these and all works under his pen name John Sinjohn.  It was only upon the death of his father and the publication of The Island Pharisees in 1904 that he published as John Galsworthy.  His first play was The Silver Box, an immediate success when it debuted in 1906 and was followed by The Man of Property later that same year and was the first in the Forsyte trilogy.   Whilst today he is far more well know as a Nobel Prize winning novelist then he was considered a playwright dealing with social issues and the class system.  We publish here ‘The Skin Game’ a great example of both his writing and his demonstration of how the class system worked at the time. He was appointed to the Order of Merit in 1929, after earlier turning down a knighthood, and awarded the Nobel Prize in 1932 though he was too ill to attend. John Galsworthy died from a brain tumour at his London home, Grove Lodge, Hampstead on January 31st 1933. In accordance with his will he was cremated at Woking with his ashes then being scattered over the South Downs from an aeroplane.

      Index Of Contents

      Characters

      ACT I

      ACT II

      ACT III

      JOHN GALSWORTHY – A SHORT BIOGRAPHY

       CHARACTERS

       HILLCRIST...............A Country Gentleman

       AMY.....................His Wife

       JILL....................His Daughter

       DAWKER..................His Agent

       HORNBLOWER..............A Man Newly-Rich

       CHARLES.................His Elder Son

       CHLOE...................Wife to Charles

       ROLF....................His Younger Son

       FELLOWS.................Hillcrist's Butler

       ANNA....................Chloe's Maid

       THE JACKMANS............Man and Wife

       AN AUCTIONEER

       A SOLICITOR

       TWO STRANGERS

       ACT I.  HILLCRIST'S Study

       ACT II.

            SCENE I.   A month later.  An Auction Room.

            SCENE II.  The same evening.  CHLOE'S Boudoir.

       ACT III

            SCENE I.   The following day.  HILLCRIST'S Study.  Morning.

            SCENE II.  The Same.  Evening.

      ACT I

      HILLCRIST'S study. A pleasant room, with books in calf bindings, and signs that the HILLCRIST'S have travelled, such as a large photograph of the Taj Mahal, of Table Mountain, and the Pyramids of Egypt. A large bureau [stage Right], devoted to the business of a country estate. Two foxes' masks. Flowers in bowls. Deep armchairs. A large French window open [at Back], with a lovely view of a slight rise of fields and trees in August sunlight. A fine stone fireplace [stage Left]. A door [Left]. A door opposite [Right]. General colour effect—stone, and cigar-leaf brown, with spots of bright colour. [HILLCRIST sits in a swivel chair at the bureau, busy with papers. He has gout, and his left foot is encased accord: He is a thin, dried-up man of about fifty-five, with a rather refined, rather kindly, and rather cranky countenance. Close to him stands his very upstanding nineteen-year-old daughter JILL, with clubbed hair round a pretty, manly face.]

      JILL. You know, Dodo, it's all pretty good rot in these days.

      HILLCRIST. Cads are cads, Jill, even in these days.

      JILL. What is a cad?

      HILLCRIST. A self-assertive fellow, without a sense of other people.

      JILL. Well, Old Hornblower I'll give you.

      HILLCRIST. I wouldn't take him.

      JILL. Well, you've got him. Now, Charlie—Chearlie—I say—the importance of not being Charlie—

      HILLCRIST. Good heavens! Do you know their Christian names?

      JILL. My dear father, they've been here seven years.

      HILLCRIST. In old days we only knew their Christian names from their tombstones.

      JILL. Charlie Hornblower isn't really half a bad sport.

      HILLCRIST. About a quarter of a bad sport I've always thought out hunting.

      JILL. [Pulling his hair] Now, his wife—Chloe—-

      HILLCRIST. [Whimsical] Gad! your mother'd have a fit if she knew you called her Chloe.

      JILL. It's a ripping name.

      HILLCRIST. Chloe! H'm! I had a spaniel once.

      JILL. Dodo, you're narrow. Buck up, old darling, it won't do. Chloe has seen life, I'm pretty sure; THAT'S attractive, anyway. No, mother's not in the room; don't turn your uneasy eyes.

      HILLCRIST. Really, my dear, you are getting—

      JILL. The limit. Now, Rolf—

      HILLCRIST. What's Rolf? Another dog?

      JILL. Rolf Hornblower's a topper; he really is a nice boy.

      HILLCRIST. [With a sharp look] Oh! He's a nice boy?

      JILL. Yes, darling. You know what a nice boy is, don't you?

      HILLCRIST. Not in these days.

      JILL. Well, I'll tell you. In the first place, he's not amorous.

      HILLCRIST. What! Well, that's some comfort.

      JILL. Just a jolly good companion.

      HILLCRIST. To whom?

      JILL. Well, to anyone—me.

      HILLCRIST. Where?

      JILL. Anywhere. You don't suppose I confine myself to the home paddocks, do you? I'm naturally rangey, Father.

      HILLCRIST. [Ironically] You don't say so!

      JILL. In the second place, he doesn't like discipline.

      HILLCRIST. Jupiter! He does seem attractive.

      JILL. In the third place, he bars his father.

      HILLCRIST. Is that essential to nice girls too?

      JILL. [With a twirl of his hair] Fish not! Fourthly, he's got ideas.

      HILLCRIST. I knew it!

      JILL. For instance, he thinks, as I do—

      HILLCRIST. Ah! Good ideas.

      JILL. [Pulling gently] Careful! He thinks old people run the show too much. He says they oughtn't to, because they're so damtouchy. Are you damtouchy, darling?

      HILLCRIST. Well, I'm—! I don't know about touchy.

      JILL. He says there'll be no world fit to live in till we get rid of the old. We must make them climb a tall tree, and shake them off it.

      HILLCRIST. [Drily] Oh! he says that!

      JILL. Otherwise, with the way they stand on each other's rights, they'll spoil the garden for the young.

      HILLCRIST. Does his father agree?

      JILL. Oh! Rolf doesn't talk to him, his mouth's too large. Have you ever seen it, Dodo?

      HILLCRIST. Of course.

      JILL. It's considerable, isn't it? Now yours is—reticent, darling. [Rumpling his hair.]

      HILLCRIST. It won't be in a minute. Do you realise that I've got gout?

      JILL. Poor ducky! How long have we been here, Dodo?

      HILLCRIST. Since Elizabeth, anyway.

      JILL. [Looking at his foot] It has its drawbacks. D'you think Hornblower had a father? I believe he was spontaneous. But, Dodo, why all this—this attitude to the Hornblowers?

      [She purses her lips and makes a gesture as of pushing persons away.]

      HILLCRIST. Because they're pushing.

      JILL. That's only because we are, as mother would say, and they're not—yet. But why not let them be?

      HILLCRIST. You can't.

      JILL. Why?

      HILLCRIST. It takes generations to learn to live and let live, Jill. People like that take an ell when you give them an inch.

      JILL. But if you gave them the ell, they wouldn't want the inch. Why should it all be such a skin game?

      HILLCRIST. Skin game? Where do you get your lingo?

      JILL. Keep to the point, Dodo.

      HILLCRIST. Well, Jill, all life's a struggle between people at different stages of development, in different positions, with different amounts of social influence and property. And the only thing is to have rules of the game and keep them. New people like the Hornblowers haven't learnt those rules; their only rule is to get all they can.

      JILL. Darling, don't prose. They're not half as bad as you think.

      HILLCRIST. Well, when I sold Hornblower Longmeadow and the cottages, I certainly found him all right. All the same, he's got the cloven hoof. [Warming up] His influence in Deepwater is thoroughly bad; those potteries of his are demoralising, the whole atmosphere of the place is changing. It was a thousand pities he ever came here and discovered that clay. He's brought in the modern cutthroat spirit.

      JILL. Cut our throat spirit, you mean. What's your definition of a gentleman, Dodo?

      HILLCRIST. [Uneasily] Can't describe—only feel it.

      JILL.

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